


The Secrets of Apartment 211

by j3swimmer



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Sex, Bondage, Canonical Character Death, M/M, Oral Sex, Protective Erik, Revenge, Shaw Being a Manipulative Bastard, Shaw is Creepy, Slavery, Torture, Whipping, past gang rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-08 05:09:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1128708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j3swimmer/pseuds/j3swimmer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for X-Men First Kink prompt: http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/6192.html?thread=7508016#t7508016</p>
<p>Erik has finally found Klaus Schmidt, and is prepared to carry out his revenge, when he meets Charles Xavier, another victim of the crime lord who killed his parents.  His plans to destroy Schmidt are suddenly less important than this strange, beautiful man who has lost everything.  Erik now has to decide what is more important, healing the man he may very well be in love with, or destroying the man who ruined everything for both of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set in 1970's-ish Las Vegas. No mutant powers (although Shaw somehow still manages to stay relatively young... shut up internet... Kevin Bacon has magic powers). The prompt was based on the movie Blue Velvet, but since I have never actually seen the film, this is going to be a bit off...
> 
> Also, a lot of this more graphic stuff is new to me. Please, please give advice!

Erik Lehnsherr scowled at the bright red numbers on the hotel alarm clock. It couldn't already be 9:00. That just wasn't possible. The pounding in his head, a result of his twelve hour plane flight the previous day, had not yet subsided. He hated flying, but he was sure his journey was worth it. After years of searching, he had finally found the man who murdered his parents. He had finally found Klaus Schmidt.  
It was hard to believe the crime lord who had ruined Erik's childhood was so close. Years of searching had led him to Las Vegas. Schmidt had hidden himself well, changing names and moving across the ocean. Although it really wasn't that surprising that he had ended up in this specific town. Crime rates were high, hiding was easy, and, with the right amount of money, anyone could be bought. Klaus Schmidt's, or as he was now known, Sebastian Shaw's ideal crime empire could be a reality here, away from the hunger and cold that had filled the streets of the little town in Germany he had grown up in.   
Now was no time for reminiscing, though. The last man he had spoken with, a corrupt banker from Paris, had given him the address of an apartment about a mile away from the shitty hotel Eric was staying in. It was hard to imagine Schmidt choosing a neighborhood like this to live in, far from the glamour and excitement of the town he had chosen, but this was the best lead Erik had in years, and he was not going to pass it up. Focusing on how sweet his revenge would be, Erik rolled out of bed, pulled on a black turtle neck and a pair of jeans, grabbed his jacket, gun, and knives before exiting the small hotel room and heading towards the complex where the man he had waited so long to kill would be waiting for him.   
\-------  
The complex was just as crappy as his small hotel room had been. The outside was coated in graffiti and random stains that Erik had not tried to identify. Most of the windows were still dark, even though it was almost three in the afternoon and many were cracked or even missing completely. Not wanting to rush into a situation he wasn't prepared for, Erik had been watching the complex for around five hours, but nothing of note had happened. The Schmidt he remembered had tried to surround himself with wealth and style, and this run-down building seemed about as far from either of those two things you could possibly get.   
That left Erik with two options. Either this was the home of someone very low-down on Schmidt's payroll or the banker had lied to him. The first option would be disappointing, but could still provide him some information on where the crime lord currently was, the second was unthinkable. Erik couldn't afford to travel back to Europe. If the banker's trail turned out to be false, Erik would be forced to remain in this awful town and either work or steal enough money to get back to the last leads he had. Putting off his goals for that long might drive him mad. He should have questioned the banker further about what he would find in the apartment before he shot the bastard.   
Gritting his teeth and trying not to think about what could happen if this trail ran cold, Erik walked to the entrance of the apartment. Luckily for Erik, the entrance to the building had no lock, although this made it even less likely Schmidt would be seen here. Still, he had to check it out. Trying not to look too suspicious, Erik headed up the stairs to apartment 211.   
It wasn’t until he got to apartment 211 that Erik realized he didn’t have a plan. Every other step he had taken had been meticulously thought out, but someone’s home was an unknown quantity to him. He almost always knew more about the person he was about to question than he did now. His original plan had been to burst into Schmidt’s apartment and kill him before he got a chance to realize what was happening, but that was before Erik had discovered the state of the place. Taking a deep breath and focusing on his current situation, Erik determined that his best option would be to act as though he worked for Schmidt, or Shaw, he corrected, and hope that whoever was behind this door would be thick enough to believe him until he got the information he needed. Clearing his face of all emotion, Erik walked up to the door marked 211 and knocked. 

 

The man who opened the door was not what he had been expecting. He had been thinking some sort of junkie or possibly a dealer, but not this. The man who had opened the door and was now suggestively leaning against the left-side of the doorway was possibly the most beautiful man Erik had ever seen. He had perfectly tussled dark-brown hair, full, red lips, and piercing blue eyes that appeared almost too old to belong to the young man standing before him.   
“Did Shaw send you?” The man asked, breaking Erik’s train of thought while simultaneously stimulating his curiosity further. There were two things Erik learned from that question, 1) that this strange man did have some connection to Schmidt, so the trail hadn’t completely run dry and 2) that this man had a British accent, which made him even more of an enigma. Doing his best to hide his surprise, Erik nodded. 

“Let’s get you inside, then.” The man said with a sad smile, before slowly sliding his hand down the side of the door frame and grabbing Erik’s arm and pulling him into the run-down apartment building. 

Erik barely had a chance to look around and check that there were no other threats in the small one-room apartment before the mysterious man had slammed the door shut and pressed him up against the wall. Full, red lips were pressed against his, completely distracting Erik from his current goal. His hands slid towards the shorter man’s shoulders as Erik's mind fought between his long unquenched need for physical contact and the undeniable proximity to his target. It wasn’t until the strange man’s hand crept down towards his jeans that his thoughts snapped back into focus and Erik shoved the stranger back away from him. The man looked bewildered for a moment before his expression shifted to a resigned sadness and he said, “If that’s not what you’re here for, there are tools in the back. I’m sure Sebastian explained the rules to you before he sent you here, so you know you can’t leave any permanent marks on my face, but anything else is fair game. Or you can just hit me if you would prefer.”

“No.” Erik replied without really thinking. “I don’t want to hit you.”

The confused look returned to the stranger’s face as he studied Erik, before comprehension morphed his features into fear as he stated, “Sebastian Shaw didn’t send you here, did he?”

Erik shook his head, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to do what was necessary to trick this man into thinking that he was one of Schmidt’s associates at this point. 

“Oh god, you shouldn’t be here.” The man said, practically hyperventilating, “What will he do if he finds out? You’ve got to-”

The man was interrupted by a knock at the door, causing his already wide eyes to grow even wider and his whole body to start trembling. Erik was reaching into his jacket for his gun when the man grabbed him and pushed him into an incredibly small bathroom. The knocking was growing louder and Erik could hear someone shouting on the other side of it as the frightened man whispered to him, “Be silent and stay in here. No matter what happens, do not open this door. And please, do not do anything rash. You’re actions could have consequences you haven’t predicted.”  
Erik only had time to nod before the other man was gone, shutting Erik in the small bathroom and heading back to the main room of the small apartment. Erik, moving as silently as he could, crept to the bathroom door and knelt under the sink, peering through a small crack between the door and the wall and slowly pulling out one of his knives. From the level he was at he could only really see the lower halves of the two men in the room, but as soon as he new arrival spoke, Erik knew who he was. It had been years since he had heard that voice, but he could never forget it. Just on the other side of this door was the man he had spent his entire life searching for. The only thing that kept him from jumping out of the small bathroom and wringing the life from Schmidt’s throat were the last words the strange man had said to him. If he killed Schmidt now, there would be repercussions, and for some reason he couldn’t let those repercussions fall onto the man whose bathroom he was currently crouching in.

“Why did you take so long to answer the door, you little slut?” Schmidt yelled, pinning the stranger up against the wall across from the door. Erik had to press his face against the wall of the bathroom to still be able to see them in that corner.

“I was in the bathroom.” Responded the stranger, his voice sounding muffled, as if something was pressed against his airways. “I came as fast as I could.”

“Next time I want you to answer this door the second you hear me knock, I don’t care if your pants are around your ankles, I want you here.” Schmidt commanded, shoving the man into the wall and moving over to sit in one of the rickety little chairs in the far corner of the apartment. Erik could see the stranger’s face for a moment as he fell to the ground, eyes remaining downcast as he replied meekly, “yes sir.” 

“Get over here!” Schmidt yelled, and Erik could almost feel his cold heart melt as he watched the slow, sad crawl as the stranger moved to Schmidt’s side, never rising off the ground, eyes never leaving the floor. Whoever this man was, Schmidt must have broken him, leaving only this sad, defeated, beautiful husk. As soon as he reached Schmidt’s side, a large hand reached down and grabbed the brown hair, pulling the stranger up onto his knees and forcing his head back at an incredibly uncomfortable angle. 

“Next time you take too long to answer the door I might just have to go visit Raven instead, do you understand?” Schmidt hissed, before tossing the poor man back to the ground and forcing his face into the floor. 

“It won’t happen again, sir!” the stranger shouted into the dirty carpet his face was currently being pressed into. Erik stored the name Raven away, hoping that it might lead to a clue of who this man was and why Schmidt held such power over him. 

“Good.” Schmidt responded, moving back to the chair he had been sitting in. “Now, I’ve had to deal with your little friend Officer Mactaggert all today, and I need a little stress relief before we go to the club tonight, so why don’t you do what you do best and get your pretty little mouth on my cock.”

Erik could barely suppress a growl as he watched the strange man slowly rise from his prone position on the floor and crawl between Schmidt’s legs. He had to turn away when the stranger on the floor reached up to pull down Schmidt’s zipper. He could not block out the terrible noises that were coming from the other side of the bathroom door, though. He could hear the wet, slurping and choking noises the stranger made as Schmidt shoved his dick down his throat, and the filth that poured out of Schmidt mouth as he urged the man on. 

“God, Charlie,” Schmidt moaned from the other room, “your mouth! Maybe if we showed Mactaggert what a fucking whore you are now she’d give up. That fucking bitch might back off if she knew what happens to people who fuck with me! Isn’t that right professor Xavier? Not so high and mighty are you now, you slut! This is your place, kneeling at my feet, fit only to suck my cock!”

Schmidt emphasized each of the last words with a harsh thrust forward, keeping a hold of the poor man’s hair as he came down his throat. A thud from the room next to him forced Erik’s gaze back through the crack in the door, where the stranger, or Charlie as Schmidt had called him, had fallen back to the ground and was gasping for air. Schmidt stood, kicked the prone man in the stomach, and ordered, “Go get cleaned up. We’re entertaining a special guest at the club tonight. You’ll need to look good.” 

As Charlie slowly rose from his position on the floor, the meaning of Schmidt’s words sank in. Charlie would be coming in here to clean up, so Erik needed to move away from the door, or all his hiding would be for naught. He stood silently, and slid into the small shower, pressing himself up against the wall that would be behind the door when Charlie opened it to clean himself up. Just as he got into the most hidden position he could, the door to the bathroom opened. The grip on his knife tightened as Erik hoped Schmidt would remain in the main room of the apartment. Luck appeared to have remained on his side, as Charlie entered the bathroom and shut the door quickly, not looking towards Erik until he had turned the sink on and splashed water on his face. After grabbing a towel he turned towards Erik and whispered, “Wait five minutes after you hear the door close, and then get out of here and never come back.”

Erik met the bright blue eyes that seemed almost dimmer than they had when he had first knocked on the door of apartment 211, and wondered what horrors this man had lived through. Charlie didn’t seem to expect him to respond, as he hung the towel up and quickly exited the bathroom, not sparing Erik another glance. Erik couldn’t move as he listened to the man he had chased half way across the globe leave the apartment, presumably taking Charlie to whatever club he had mentioned earlier. He could have done it, he could have killed him. It would have been so easy. Schmidt had been unguarded, unless you counted Charlie, which seemed silly when Erik thought of just how small the other man looked. He probably hadn’t had a good meal in days, and was probably about half a foot shorter than Erik. But he hadn’t. Instead he had done just as Charlie asked him, remaining a silent observer to the unfortunate man’s suffering. When he figured he had given Schmidt and Charlie enough time to leave the apartment complex, Erik moved out of the bathroom, certain that no matter how the other man protested, he had no intention of following his last order, and he would be back here soon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik meets Moira, finds out a lot about Charlie, and begins to formulate a plan. Maybe not a great one, but at least it exists. 
> 
> There will be actual Charles in the next chapter. Sorry about lacks of Charles. I know it's difficult.

Chapter 2

Instead of walking back to his hotel, Erik headed down towards the slightly more well-off part of Las Vegas, looking for a phone booth he could hopefully use to find a police officer named Mactaggert. Raven wouldn’t be enough information to go on, and Professor Xavier seemed to be Charlie, so Erik already knew how to find him. There was probably only one Officer Mactaggert though, and she might be able to tell him something about Schmidt or even Charlie. He would need to trick her though, as a police officer who had pissed off Schmidt probably wouldn’t be able to be bribed or threatened. No, he would need to make her think he had a legitimate reason to be asking about Schmidt. Maybe, if he posed as an investigative journalist trying to uncover enough information to get Schmidt sent away, she would be willing to help.

By the time he had determined his alibi, Erik was close enough to downtown Las Vegas that there were a few telephone booths. He entered the first one he saw and grabbed the slightly damaged yellow book, filliping through the pages towards the M’s. There were fifteen Mactaggerts, but only six were women, so that at least narrowed it down. Now he just needed a way to find out which of the six women was a police officer who had pissed off Sebastian Shaw. Ripping out the page with all the Mactaggerts on it, Erik began to walk back to his hotel. Once he got there he could call each of the six women, and hopefully determine which the one he was looking for was. 

\--------

The first two calls were bust. Ava and Jessica Mactaggart were both unemployed housewives The third number, a woman named Moira, held promise. He had reached a voice message machine that had instructed him to forward any calls pertinent to her ongoing investigates to a separate number. This had to be the person who had been antagonizing Schmidt. Erik dialed the work number Moira Mactaggert’s voice mail had suggested and waited as the shrill ringing echoed through the telephone lines.

“Detective Mactaggert, who is this?” a tired voice asked Erik through the line. Erik used the false name he had prepared and answered in his best American accent, “Hello Miss Mactaggert, my name is David Maximoff, I’m an investigative journalist trying to expose crime in American cities. I was wondering if I could possibly meet with you to talk about the work you have done involving a man named Sebastian Shaw.”

The line was silent for a moment, and Erik wondered if he had scared her off. Trying not to worry, he began formulating other methods of reaching this woman when she responded, “What do you want to know about Shaw?”

“I was rather hoping we could meet, and I could get a quick interview in if you had time. I’ve seen some of the effects Shaw’s arrival has had on this town, and read about your  
efforts to stop him. I just want to see justice done, and hope you can help me expose him.” Erik replied.

“My first piece of advice to you, David, is to stay away from Shaw. If he finds out you’re investigating him he won’t hesitate to kill you. But, if you really want to help bring that bastard down, I’d be happy to meet you for lunch. Say, tomorrow at noon?”

Erik couldn’t help but grin as she warned him to stay away from Shaw. He had spent a good portion of his life trying to get close to the man. But Detective Mactaggert wouldn’t know that, so he cleared his head and focused on the last bit of her comment, saying “That would be marvelous. Where do you want to meet?”

“There’s a great deli just down the street from the police station. 968 North Ninth Street. We can meet there.”

“You’re not worried about being overheard?”

“Shaw already knows that I’m trying to take him down. I’ve received so many death threats that I’ve grown immune. And if you’re looking into him, it won’t be long till you start getting them as well. You can’t hide from Shaw in this city.”

Erik was surprised by her abruptness. He couldn’t help but wonder if Schmidt already knew he was in the city, but was waiting for him to make the first move. But, he couldn’t. Erik had changed since the last time Schmidt had seen him, and he almost never used the name Schmidt knew him by on official documents, so there was no reason for him to appear suspicious at this point. That might not be the case after tomorrow though, but it would be worth it to learn more about Schmidt and the strange man from apartment 211, so he responded, “I’ll see you then. Thank you for your time, Detective Mactaggert.”

The line clicked dead as soon as he had spoken those words. Detective Mactaggert had sounded weary and stressed, she must not have time to spare on proper conversation conventions such as farewells. Not that Erik really cared. As long as he got the information he was looking for, he would be happy. 

As he lay back on his bed, he wonder, what information was he trying to get by talking to Mactaggert? He had been in the same room as Schmidt earlier today, so he knew the man was somewhere in the city, and probably wouldn’t be too hard to find, so there would be easier and safer ways to get his revenge than going through the police force. He hated to admit it, but the real reason he had chosen to meet with Mactaggert, instead of following the trails of blood and drugs that would inevitably lead to Schmidt as he had before, was because he wanted to know who Charlie, or Professor Xavier had been before Schmidt had turned him into the broken man he had seen today. 

He sat up and pressed his palms into his eyes, trying to get the image of the blue-eyed man out of his head. He was about to take down Schmidt, there were more important things to be worrying about.

\-----

Erik spent the rest of that night and most of the next morning alternating between trying to find information on Professor Xavier and doing his best to forget about the whole incident. He hadn’t found much about the man, but in the time he had spent trying not to think about him he had been able to narrow down the number of clubs Schmidt could have been talking about from around fifty to fifteen, as most of the rest were either too old or too new. Schmidt couldn’t have been in Las Vegas for more than about seven years, but it probably hadn’t taken him long to establish his empire. By the time he had figured that out it was around 11:00 and he needed to get moving if he wanted to meet Detective Mactaggert on time. Considering the way she had sounded on the phone, she would probably leave the deli and go straight back to work if he wasn’t there precisely on time. 

Erik had done his best to dress casually today (he only had his hidden knives on him, which did make him nervous, but he couldn’t have someone working for the police questioning why he was carrying around a gun). He wasn’t exactly certain what a journalist who researched organized crime would look like, but the brown leather jacket, black pants, and dark fedora seemed normal enough to him. He had also purchased a small note pad and a nice pen, to keep Mactaggert from getting suspicious. He arrived at the deli at 11:57, found a seat in the corner near the window where he would be able to see the door and the street, and waited. 

His perception of Mactaggert had been almost spot on. She arrived at the deli at exactly 12:00, looking extraordinarily weary while also slightly hopeful. She was quite obviously carrying a gun, which made her rather easy to identify, so after pausing a minute to take in her appearance, Erik stood and began walking towards the brunette woman. 

“Detective Mactaggert?” Erik asked as he reached her, earning a brief smile and a scrutinizing look from the woman as she replied, “Yes, you must be David Maximoff. Have you ordered yet?”

Erik shook his head, as he joined her in the line up to the counter. They remained relatively silent as they waited to reach the register where a large, sweaty man was trying to handle the lunch-time rush as well as he could. After they had made it through the line (and Detective Mactaggert had downed about half of her large black coffee), they returned to the small table in the corner Erik had selected, and the detective asked, “So, David, you decided not to head my warning?”

Erik grinned at her and replied, “No. People like Shaw need to be exposed for what they are. I’ve been in risky situations before, I can handle this.”

“I have to say, I’m rather glad you didn’t.” Detective Mactaggert said with a smile. “Shaw’s got half the town in his back pocket; it’s nice to meet someone else who is trying to take him down.”

“How does Shaw get so many people to do as he asks? Someone else must have noticed the rising crime rates and suspicious behavior?” Erik asked, trying to determine how much this woman would be willing to reveal.

“Sure others have noticed, but he either bribes or threatens anyone who starts to do anything about it. He tried bribing me, but it didn’t work. Now he’s moved on to threats, but those haven’t been working either.” The Detective added with a sly grin.

“Have there been others, beside yourself, who have stood up to him?” 

Detective Mactaggert was silent at this, the grin sliding from her face and shifting into a look of sadness and disgust as she set down her sandwich and replied, “Yes. There was one man, a good friend of mine actually, who did more to stop Shaw than any other person I know. In the end, Shaw was able to get rid of him as well.”

“Who was this man?” Erik asked, hoping that this could be the man from apartment 211, “How did he stand up to Shaw? What happened to him?”

“His name was Charles Xavier.” Detective Mactaggert replied, staring off into space, as if lost, deep within her memories. Erik couldn’t help but fell excited. This was his mystery man. Talking with Mactaggert had been an amazing idea. “He was a professor of biology at the community college, which was just one of the ways he tried to help the people of this town. He was brilliant, I mean he could have taught at Yale or Cambridge or anywhere he wanted to really, but he chose here, for whatever reason. He would spend so much time and energy working with the students of the college, really trying to help them realize their full potential, but most of all he wanted to keep his students, as well as the children stuck in the worst parts of this city, away from men like Sebastian Shaw. 

“So, he used some of his inheritance to build a community center where children and teens could come to relax and hang out without having to worry about the increase in crime rates or whatever problems they had at home. And, although I didn’t even believe he could possibly have more time after all the effort he put into teaching, he somehow managed to come to the community center every day, to really get to know the kids who were coming in, and to do his best to make them feel at home. 

“Anyway, that was enough to catch Shaw’s eye. He was losing customers to sell his drugs to, girls he could bring to his disgusting club, and boys he could hire as muscle. Charles had planned to single handedly clean up this town, and at that point it looked like he might be able to do it. 

“Unfortunately, not everyone could be as perfect as Charles. A couple of the kids who spent time at the center, a boy named Alex Summers and his friend Armando Munoz, owed Shaw money because Alex’s foster father had been spending more than they had on crack and Shaw’s thugs had been threatening to take it out on Alex’s younger brother, Scott. Charles had noticed them looking nervous, so he had been keeping a close eye on them. He questioned them one day after Alex had gotten in a fight with one of the other kids, and Armando eventually told him what had been happening. Charles apparently got rather pissed off, and told Alex to take him to the thugs who had threatened Scott.”

Moira had a sad smile on at this point, as she took another gulp of her coffee and continued. “I wish I could have been there to see what had happened next, because I’m certain it was hilarious. You have to understand, Charles wasn’t a large man. He was about five foot seven, and spent more of his time drinking tea than working out, but he managed to walk up to two of Shaw’s biggest thugs, look them straight in the eye and tell them that they were imbecilic cowards who probably wouldn’t know how to walk if Shaw hadn’t instructed them, gave them the money Alex’s father owed, and told them to tell Shaw that if he was weak enough to threaten children it was going to be a lot easier getting rid of him than he had previously though, insinuated that he had no penis and walked away. It must have been amazing.”

Erik couldn’t help but agree with Mactaggert’s analysis of this scenario. It was hard to think the broken man he had seen crawling between Schmidt’s legs could have had such backbone. He took a sip of his own coffee and encouraged Mactaggert to go on, “Shaw couldn’t have taken that well. What happened to Xavier after that?”

The true smile that had briefly graced Mactaggert’s face vanished, as she too took another sip of her coffee and said, “You’re right, Shaw didn’t like that. Charles had crossed the line, and Shaw wasn’t going to allow such a statement to go unanswered. A few days after that incident, when Charles was walking home from the community center, he was jumped by a group of Shaw’s men. I don’t know exactly what happened then, because Charles never really got to the point where he was comfortable talking about it, but some of it became public knowledge rather quickly, thanks to Shaw. They took Charles to some abandoned warehouse or something, and raped him. It was awful, there were six of them, all wearing masks, and they would take turns beating and fucking Charles until he was just a mess of bruises, blood and semen. To make things even worse, they filmed the whole thing, and distributed copies of the video to practically everyone who was in contact with Charles. And this included the students and staff of the college he worked at. 

“The college couldn’t keep him after that. Not when so many of the students had seen Charles in such a demeaning position, no one could take him seriously as a professor. So not only was he repeatedly raped, but he was fired as well. Charles lost everything in one horrible day, but Shaw wasn’t done with him.

“After he was released from the hospital, Charles tried to find a new job, but no one would hire him. He didn’t want to leave the city, as he saw that as giving up, so he just kept on trying, but every place was the same. No matter where he went, Shaw got there first, persuading the employers not to hire him. He ended up spending most of his time at the community center, but it was clear he didn’t have the energy he had before. If I hadn’t known that he would never think of leaving the children, I would have been worried that he was contemplating suicide. But Charles would never abandon the fight like that. This went on for about three months before Charles started to run out of money. He had donated practically all of his large inheritance to the upkeep of the community center and other projects like it, and he wouldn’t dare dip into the money he was saving to help his sister through college, so eventually he was going to get kicked out of his flat. I guess that was it for him. I hadn’t been hearing from him very often, but at that point he disappeared completely. I was about to start a manhunt when I got a call from him. He told me he had moved back to New York, that he couldn’t take it anymore, and asked me to look after the community center for him. It was hard for me to believe he had given up like that, but after all he had been through I couldn’t blame him. 

“So, I do my best to help run the community center, and now that I’ve been promoted to detective I’ve been working extra hours to try to take down Shaw. But as long as everyone here is either too scared or too greedy to help, Shaw’s going to continue ruling this city like the bloody tyrant he is.” Mactaggert paused and glanced at the clock, the reminiscent look vanishing from her face as she exclaimed, “Shit! Is that the time? I’m sorry David, but I’ve got to go. If you need more information, I’d check out Shaw’s club, Hellfire, down on the strip. Just be careful, Shaw can be one sadistic son of a bitch.”

“Believe me, Detective Mactaggert, I know.” Erik replied, shaking her hand as she stood to leave. 

“Please, call me Moira. And if you do get in too deep, and need any help, please don’t hesitate to contact me. You have my number.”

With that, Moira excited the deli, leaving Erik smiling at the table. He could not believe his luck. Not only had he ascertained the name of the club Schmidt owned and seemed to frequent, he had also uncovered who the mystery man in apartment 211 was and gained an ally in the police force. The risks of meeting with a detective where definitely worth it. Erik quickly finished his sandwich and bused his and Moira’s dishes before rushing out towards the apartment complex which currently housed Charles Xavier, or what was left of him. Now that he knew more about where this man had come from, his desire to free him had multiplied. Schmidt shouldn’t have had the opportunity to ruin so many lives, especially one who had been so good, if Moira’s description of him was accurate. Plus, he could gather valuable information about Schmidt’s week spots by talking to someone in his employ who probably hated him almost as much as Erik did. Erik couldn’t stop grinning (not even when people began giving him strange looks and crossing to the other side of the street just to avoid him) as he continued on his way towards the building. Nothing could ruin the wonderful feeling he had today.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik and Charles talk. There is tea! And some comfort for Charles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the lateness of this. I just got back to school after attending a conference, things have been a bit hectic. Hopefully I will be able to continue updating as the year progress, although frequency of updates will decrease.

Well, Erik had been having a good day. 

The horrified expression on the bruised and (was that blood?) thoroughly beaten Charles Xavier was more than enough to ruin the good feeling talking with Moira had given him. 

Erik had strode right into the apartment complex and up to number 211 with a grin on his face, knocking loudly and preparing to explain how he wanted to help the ex-professor and get rid of Shaw. Surely he could get this poor man on his side easily enough, and use him to learn more about Shaw’s habits.

It had taken a surprising amount of time for the door to open, considering what had happened yesterday, and Erik had begun to worry that Shaw had taken Charles back to his club again, when the door slowly opened, revealing the black and blue face of its resident. Erik was only just able to stop the door from slamming closed as Charles hissed, “I thought I told you not to come back!”

“And you thought I would listen?” Erik responded, easily pulling the door away from the smaller, weaker, and injured man. 

“I hoped you would.” Charles muttered, looking slightly angry for a moment before the pure terror returned. “Don’t you realize how dangerous this is for me?”

At this point Erik was completely inside the apartment, so he checked that the door was closed and he wouldn’t be overheard before saying, “I want to help you. I know that this is dangerous, but I’m going to take down Shaw. And then you’ll be free.”

Charles had been backing away from Erik since he pushed his way through the door. Just as Erik finished telling him his purpose, Charles hit the wall across from the door, and groaned in pain before collapsing to the floor. Erik was at his side at an instant, trying to find the reason he collapsed without aggravating any of Charles’ other injuries. Charles seemed to be rather out of it, his eyes were clearly attempting to focus on Erik and he was feebly trying to push him away, but Erik wouldn’t be budged. It didn’t take long for him to discover the source of the sudden collapse; Charles’ back was completely covered in blood. Hitting his back on the wall must have aggravated the wounds that had caused such massive amounts of blood loss. 

As gently as he could, Erik reached around the injured man and lifted him up against his chest. Charles whimpered slightly as Erik exerted some pressure on his back, but Erik couldn't leave him lying on the floor. Scanning the apartment as quickly as he could, Erik focused on the small bed in the only corner with a window. Erik carried Charles over to the bed and tried his best to straighten the covers without further hurting Charles before he laid him face-down on the bed. 

Charles’ breath was coming out in short, shallow puffs, but at least he was still breathing. His eyes were shut, but not as they would be in sleep, but scrunched up in pain. He clearly needed medical treatment but Erik couldn’t take him to the hospital without alerting Shaw to his presence. As he figured, he had two options, call an ambulance and run before it arrived or stay and help Charles himself. It probably should have concerned him more that he wasn’t even considering just leaving Charles to bleed on the bed, but he couldn’t focus on that at the moment.

Coming to the conclusion that Charles might not thank him for calling an ambulance, Erik decided that he would have to help him himself. Leaving the door just barely propped open, Erik ran out of the building and down the street searching for some type of pharmacy or something that might sell the supplies he would need to treat Charles. There was a small drug store at the corner about two blocks away that had the antiseptic, bandages, gauze pads, medical tape, and a few other small tools he knew from experience he would need. Erik had needed to dress his own wounds often enough to know exactly what he would need to take care of Charles. Pausing briefly, Erik decided to also get a box of tea, an apple, and a blue-berry muffin before leaving. Charles had been much too light when he picked him up, and Moira had said he enjoyed tea, so hopefully he would appreciate the small peace offering.

The door to apartment 211 was still open when Erik returned, meaning Charles must not have moved from where Erik had left him, as he almost certainly would have locked the door to keep Erik away. This was good for Erik but bad for Charles, seeing as it meant he was injured enough to still be practically unconscious from just slightly aggravating his wounds. 

Using one of his knives, Erik very carefully cut Charles’ shirt from his body. He knew Charles would probably not be happy about this either, but he was too worried about hurting him more to do it any other way. As soon as it was gone the source of Charles’ injuries became obvious. Someone had whipped the poor bastard.

Erik had seen all sorts of wounds in his work tracking down Schmidt. Following on the trail of a crime lord was not a pretty business. But the wretched state of Charles Xavier’s back still was able to make his stomach turn. There was not an inch of his back that wasn’t coated in blood, with tracks from the whip cutting diagonally across every part of him, some even curling down under his pants or onto his sides. And whoever had done it hadn’t used a normal whip either. The cuts were too deep and jagged for the marks of a leather whip, so whomever had done this had meant to make Charles’ back the bloody mess it was now. 

Holding his anger in for later when Charles wasn’t bleeding to death in his shit-hole of an apartment, Erik began to clean the blood from Charles’ back with water, antiseptic and a sterile piece of gauze. The process was horrible. Every time Erik touched Charles’ back the man would flinch or groan in pain. Only the knowledge that this was necessary to preserve his life kept Erik on his path. It was about twenty minutes before Erik was finally able to lay the gauze across the criss-crossed welts that covered Charles’ back and carefully wrap him up in bandages.

With that done, Erik let Charles rest while he began his search of the apartment for a kettle and a mug in which he could make tea. There did not seem to be a kettle anywhere within the apartment, but there was a small pot Erik was able to use to heat water over the awful stove. The thing was so terrible that it took practically half an hour for the water to begin to boil. Charles had begun to stir at this point, so Erik quickly filled a cracked cup (the only he could find) with the hot water, placed a teabag in the cup, grabbed the muffin and headed back over to the bed.

Charles was clearly still quite groggy as he opened his eyes, but when the bright blue orbs focused on Erik a look of desperate fear flooded into them, causing Erik to say, “Before you tell me to get out, I want to make sure you’re okay. I made you tea and brought some food, you look like you needed it.”

Charles gave him a confused glance, before slowly moving to get up. As he moved he became aware of the bindings on his chest, which increased the confusion apparent on Charles’ face.

“You bandaged my wounds?” he asked, slowly moving to a sitting position, only wincing slightly as he did. “Why did you do that?”

“Because you were bleeding out. I figured you didn’t want me to take you to a hospital, so I stopped the bleeding as best I could.” Erik replied, holding out the tea and muffin, which Charles was refusing to acknowledge.

“But why would you help me? You don’t even know who I am. And Shaw couldn’t have sent you as your actions yesterday proved you do not work for him.”

“Is it so hard to believe that I would want to help you just because you needed help?” Erik implored, pushing the tea into his hands. “No one deserves to be treated the way Shaw treated you yesterday.”

Charles glared at the tea, obviously still confused as to why Erik had helped him. Not knowing what else to do, Erik leaned forward and whispered, “Listen, I talked to Detective Mactaggert this morning-“

“You talked to Moira? She’s a detective now! Oh, that’s just wonderful!” Charles said, confused expression momentarily replaced with one of joy, before the bewildered gaze returned. “If you spoke with Moira, than you would know that it’s not safe to meddle with Sebastian Shaw. You should get out whilst you still can.”

“Charles, I’m not going to just leave you here!” Erik exclaimed, pushing the muffin into Charles’ empty hand and scooting closer to the injured man.

“How do you know my name?” Charles responded, still staring at the muffin and tea instead of Erik.

“Moira told me about you, who you were and how much you did to take down Shaw. I want to help.”

“You may not have noticed, but I haven’t really been doing a lot to take down Shaw lately.” Charles added, with a grimace, finally sipping the tea. “Unless you plan to ruin Shaw through crappy blow jobs there’s not much I can help you with.”

“I plan to kill Shaw.” Erik replied bluntly. Charles spit out the tea he had sipped before exclaiming, “You can’t! Please, promise me you won’t kill Shaw!”

It was Erik’s turn to look confused as he considered what Charles said before replying, “Shouldn’t you want Shaw dead more than anyone else?”

“Regardless of what I want,” Charles said with a sigh “you can’t kill Shaw. He’s constantly surrounded by body guards and carries a gun with him wherever he goes. You wouldn’t be able to get near him.”

“But with your help I could.” 

“So that’s why you helped me.” Charles stated, a look of disgust filling his face. “You want to use me to get to Shaw. Well, it won’t work. I won’t help you. Take your tea and muffin and get out of my apartment.”

Erik scowled as Charles tried to push the sustenance back into his hands. “I didn’t mean it like that! I want to help you, Charles, why won’t you let me?”

“Killing Shaw will not help me. Now this time I would really prefer it if you refrained from ever returning here again. If you do, I won’t hesitate to tell Shaw of your plans.”

“Don’t lie to me Charles.” Erik growled, refusing to move from his position near Charles’ bed. “Shaw has some hold on you. If you told him you knew I was trying to kill him, he would take it out on you as well. You know that. So what is it? What is so important to you that you would let Shaw treat you this way?”

“You have absolutely no right to ask me that. Why can’t you just leave me alone?” Charles pleaded. He appeared to be near tears at this point. 

“Because you are an amazing man, Charles Xavier, and you do not deserve this kind of treatment. Shaw has hurt too many people for too long, you know that just as well as I do. Together we could put an end to all his cruelty. All you have to do is trust me, you are no longer alone in this. I will get you out of here, and I will do so without letting Shaw destroy anything you hold precious. Just tell me what that is.”

Charles looked conflicted. He met Erik’s gaze and held it for what felt like an hour before he said, “Raven. He’s got my sister, Raven. And if he dies, whether or not he’s with me, his men will kill her.”

“Then I won’t kill him until I’ve got her out.” Erik promised. “Charles, I will make sure you are both safe.”

“How can I trust you? How do I know that this isn’t some sick, twisted trick Shaw is playing on me? Who are you?”

“My name is Erik Lehnsherr,” Erik said, surprising himself with the use of his true name. “Shaw killed my parents, and I’ve been tracking him down for the past two years. I can’t make you trust me, but I will do whatever it takes to prove to you that I am on your side. Now, please, will you eat something? You are far too skinny.”

Charles smiled at him briefly at that, before accepting the muffin and slowly bringing it to his mouth. Erik couldn’t help but stare as the bright red lips devoured the pastry until only crumbs were left and a small pink tongue poked out to wipe them from his surrounding face.

“Thank you for that, my friend.” Charles said with a rare smile. “Shaw doesn’t often provide me with such a treat.”

“I can bring you anything you want.” Erik replied, “Whatever you’ve been missing since you’ve been here.”

Charles was silent for a moment before he said, “If it’s not asking too much, I would love chocolate. Shaw only gives me enough to stay alive, and never anything sweet. I don’t even really remember want chocolate tastes like, just that it was delicious.”

“Chocolate it is.” Erik said with a smile, glad he could coax Charles into admitting that he wanted something. “But I want one thing in return. I want you to tell me how you got hurt.”

Charles paused momentarily, as if weighing his options, before saying, “It was Azazel. One of Shaw’s men. He has a whip he likes to use on me that has a metal tip, he calls it his tail. He only brings it out for special occasions.”

Erik had to focus to hold back a growl at the thought of some bastard using a whip like that on Charles. He added the name Azazel to the list of people who would have to die in the near future. 

“And why did Azazel do this to you?”

“To entertain our guests.” Charles said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Erik could no longer suppress the growl he had been trying to hide as he shouted, “That sick bastard!”

Charles cringed when Erik shouted, causing Erik’s stomach to twist in guilt. Erik reached forward to lay a sympathetic hand on Charles’ shoulder before saying in the softest tone he could manage, “I’m sorry I shouted. I just can’t stand the idea of someone hurting you for something as trivial as entertainment.”

“It is easy to underestimate the cruelty of men.” Charles stated, eyes not leaving the ground. 

“How long have you been here?” Erik asked, his hand not leaving Charles’ shoulder.

“This apartment? About a year.”

“And with Shaw?”

“Closer to three years.”

Erik couldn’t believe this. How had this man survived? Three years at the mercy of Shaw would have killed anyone else. As Erik contemplated this Charles yawned. Realizing the poor man probably need rest to help speed his recovery, Erik said, “I should let you sleep. But I will be back soon with chocolate and help. How often are you alone here?”

“They might send a doctor tomorrow, Shaw doesn’t want me to die before he’s done with me. But usually no one comes by until later in the afternoon. Please be careful, Erik.” Charles implored, his eyes finally raising from the floor and meeting Erik’s. Erik squeezed his shoulder one last time before standing up and saying, “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Now, get some rest. It will help.”

Charles nodded before relaxing back into his bed. Erik couldn’t help but steal a glance back at the peaceful expression on the sleeping man’s face. It was hard to believe someone who had suffered so much could still manage to look so innocent in sleep. Soon, though, Charles would never have to suffer again. Soon, Sebastian Shaw would be gone, and Charles would be safe.


End file.
